


My Full Moon

by bendleshnitz1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: bill_ficathon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendleshnitz1/pseuds/bendleshnitz1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to believe we woke up like any other day of the past few months without knowing how much -and how bloody fast- everything would change after I finished my porridge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wwmrsweasleydo (WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/gifts).



> I took a shot at emphasizing the inner turmoil in Bill than the actual "consequences". Sorry if anyone is disappointed! She asked for infidelity, wolfie aspects to BIll, secrets, angst, canon compliance, missing moments and open endings. Of the prompts I could choose from (if I wanted) I picked this picture, "a stormy winter afternoon with high wind and heavy rain" and part of this poem.

** My Full Moon **

**April 9th, 1998**

Fleur and I had just eaten breakfast. It's hard to believe we woke up like any other day of the past few months without knowing how much -and how bloody fast- everything would change after I finished my porridge. Of course, the tension was there even before their arrival. Tension and fear had become as natural as breathing. Every waking hour was like a game of Exploding Snap. I looked at my wife as much as I could, scared that it would be the last time. That's what war does to a person, it made me terrified of losing my wife before I could even get used to saying it aloud. _My wife_.

For all I knew, that porridge could have been my last meal. The fact didn't unsettle me as much as thinking "that toast could be the last thing Fleur eats", "that hug could have been the last one I got from my dad" or "that scowl about my long hair could be the last words I hear from my mum"... I was at peace with death. If it was my time, I would gladly take it for two very selfish reasons: I'd rather it be me than any of my family and because it would mean the end of my torment.

The worst thing about Greyback's attack weren't the scars. I didn't mind them much. My wife thought they were sexy and my family saw them as marks of bravery. No, the worst part tortured me for a whole week each month. Glancing at the moon calendar frequently has become part of my routine.

Just as Fleur caught me looking at the calendar perched on the wall by the kitchen door, the buzzing sound that went off when someone apparated in the property started echoing around the house. I quickly stood up, almost knocking down the chair I was sitting on. Wand already in hand, I looked at Fleur and said in my most authoritative voice: "Stay here."

I ran to the small backyard that led to the cliff, where I could also look at the beach without getting too far away from the house. A few meters away, just on the verge of the Fidelius charm were a house elf, a blonde girl, a tall dark man and Mr Ollivander.

"Who are they?"

I turned around and, of course, saw my wife following me with her wand ready. "I told you to stay inside."

She just glared at me before asking who they were again. As soon as he had come, the house-elf disappeared again.

"Oh, you don't remember me," the blonde girl said sadly, but instantly cheered up. "It's alright, I suppose. I do look different than at your wedding. I haven't taken a proper shower in a while now but I guess it's understandable. Who lets their prisoners have bubble baths?" she continued in a dream-like voice and big wide eyes.

That voice did sound familiar and she mentioned the wedding. Was she really a guest there or was this a trick?

Sensing my suspicion, the tall man looked at me directly and said, "We know your brother, Ron."

"And Ginny!" the girl added as if suddenly remembering.

The man looked uncomfortable by the girl's comments. "Yes, and Ginny. But Ron sent us here."

"Where is he?" I asked him.

The man looked unsure of what to say, but our attention soon went to Mr. Ollivander as he fell to the floor, looking more fragile than I've ever seen him.

"Please, help us! I'm Ron's roommate at Hogwarts. He snores like a truck, swears like a sailor and hates the colour maroon but wears his Christmas sweater all winter long," the man desperately listed things he knew about my brother, knowing it was the only way I knew I could trust them.

"Ginny told me you were the one who taught her how to ride a broom, behind your mother's back, on her sixth birthday. You cried when she fell and her knee bleed," the girl exclaimed, soon catching on what the man was doing, but also unaware of my own discomfort at the particular anecdote she chose.

I could feel Fleur's eyes burning into me, waiting for confirmation. My head couldn't even complete the nod when she rushed to their side, carrying Mr. Ollivander to the house with the blonde's help.

"I'm Dean Thomas," the man said offering his hand. Even after knowing he was Ron's classmate I couldn't think of him as a boy. Dean's facial expressions looked too mature despite barely being of age. His eyes had lived too much in such short life and the angsty wave of war emanated from him.

"I'm-"

"HELP!" Ron's hoarse voice screamed from the beach. An unconscious Hermione lay limply in his arms and I was petrified for a second at the sight. Was she...? "Bill! _Help_!"

Dean and I ran to his side, assisting Hermione as Ron kept crying and saying, "Help her. Please, help her."

* * *

**April 10th, 1998**

Like I said, everything changed. The house-elf died, and now we have a frail old man and a goblin upstairs. There's also the sweet but very weird girl chattering constantly about non-existing creatures. Ron, Harry and Hermione won't tell me a thing, yet they are clearly planning something locked up all day in a room talking in whispers. But, worse of all, was Dean. As a visitor, he was every host's dream: polite, helpful and grateful. However, one day led to another and before I knew it, it would be a full moon.

While I didn't transform into a werewolf every full moon, with the attack I had, I acquired other aspects from the wolf. Aside from preferring my meat more red than before, the wolf in me needs to fight any other male close by. A battle for dominance canalized through uncontrollable lust, to show who the Alpha male is. I normally handled it well, staying just with Fleur during full moon and avoiding contact with other men.

But, of course, there had been slips. Especially at the beginning. However, I had learned to conquer these instincts mostly taking Fleur from behind, sometimes making her wear one of my over-sized shirts and hiding her long silver-blonde hair, in an attempt to make her look manly. Both me and the beast inside laughed at the idea. Making a Veela look manly was like trying to fit a Hippogriff in a goblin's suit.

This full moon, it wouldn't just be Fleur and I. Ron and his friends were staying with us. If it weren't for Dean, there wouldn't be a problem actually. The wolf in me recognized Ron as a family member, a part of my 'pack'. With Harry it was a mixture of feelings. Part of me felt him as part of my pack but the other part... the other part could be handled because Harry was so adamant of not telling me a thing that he avoided me at all costs. Mr. Ollivander was in such fragile state that the only instinct I had was to finish his misery, something than I could never do, no matter how strong my wolf instincts could become.

But Dean... Dean was strong, powerful and even his serious, centered personality bugged the Alpha male in me. It recognized him as a real threat to its status, because Dean could clearly be a damn good leader.

* * *

**April 11th, 1998**

A small cottage with two bathrooms was not the most convenient accommodation for nine people. It was hard for me to get used to, but I soon caught the rhythm, remembering how it was like at the Burrow. However, Fleur was not too happy and an unhappy wife... Well, Dad drilled the words into our heads all our lives but now, as I bump into a half-naked Dean, it's hard to remember them. I could feel the soft rumbling in my stomach. The beast was ready to awaken, knowing tonight would be the full moon. The lurking lust was aching to run through my veins and make my life miserable. How was I going to keep my wild instincts at bay?

Dean was a nice bloke who had been trying to get on my good side since he arrived at my house. I could see his efforts and appreciate them, but they only made me feel even more terrible. He didn't understand it, but my unfriendly attitude was for his own good. I just wish it were enough.

* * *

**April 12th, 1998**

I couldn't go out. Not today. I wasn't ready. I wasn't strong enough to face Dean. Putting my strength to the test could ruin his life. As if the poor boy didn't have enough on his plate, I wasn't going to add a lusting wolf wanting to corrupt his innocence.

"BIll," the deep voice that set my skin on fire came from the other side of my bedroom door. "Bill," he said again, knocking on my door. A low growl escaped my lips involuntarily.

"Go away," I ordered, trying to control the beast.

"Fleur asked me to bring you dinner. She's not very happ-"

"GO AWAY!" I screamed, pulling out my cock and rubbing it furiously until I came all over the flowery bed covers my wife brought from France.

* * *

**April 13th, 1998**

The house was quiet; outside it was not. The afternoon welcomed a big storm, with high wind and heavy rain. Ron and his friends were in a room talking with Griphook and Fleur was teaching Luna how to embroider by hand in our room. As there was no apparent movement in the living-room I ventured outside of my hiding place for the first time in two days.

I sat on the sofa, staring at the fireplace and listening to the violent waves crush against the cliff below us. It was slowly soothing me to sleep, until his deep voice interrupted my slumber.

"I'm leaving," Dean said and I turned to watch him, holding a small, battered bag. "I thank you for letting me stay so long. Please, send Fleur my gratitude. Sorry for the inconvenience I caused."

A part of me was relieved, but the other -stronger- part knew Dean couldn't leave. He was safe here. Safe from everything but me. A battle of feelings swirled inside me, giving Dean enough time to leave.

Never ending seconds passed as me and the beast considered Dean's departure the best option. Not even the wolf was happy to see him leave. If the opponent withdrew before the actual battle, then it couldn't prove its strength properly.

I went after Dean, almost knocked out by the heavy wind that roared from the shore. I saw him struggling through the storm a few meters away.

"Come back!" I screamed, not really knowing what to say.

He stopped and looked at me wearily. "Why? You clearly don't want me here."

I huffed, ignoring the small voice in my head that shouted " _For your own sake_!"

"Dean, come back. Please." I walked the space between us and looked straight into his eyes. It was hard to contain the violent lust I felt around him, but I had to ignore it. In my head, I kept thinking of different ways to push him against the wall of my house and fuck him from behind. I could already hear the groans escaping from his lips as I took him, making it clear who was in charge.

"I don't want to cause any more trouble," he murmured so softly the wind almost took his words away.

"You're not. Honestly. Haven't you seen the goblin? _He_ is causing trouble, but I cannot let him go either," I lamely tried to joke. It was difficult to restrain the growling beast, growing uneasy at our proximity. Our similar heights made the challenge more thrilling for the beast. There was no evident disparity in strength, which would make the win more rewarding.

"Have I done anything to you?"

"Of course not. You have nothing to do with _this_ ," I said angrily, pointing at my scars. The wind blew stronger around us, making sand from the beach get stuck in our wet hair and clothes.

His dark eyes softened but his expression remained solemn.

"Just... It's not safe, Dean. They are looking for you and won't think twice-"

"What can I do to help?" He interrupted my plea, angering the beast. An Alpha wolf doesn't like to be interrupted. It would be so easy to push him to the floor and pin him down with my weight as I thrust inside of him over and over again. Maybe even making him lick me off after, making it clear I was superior to him.

I swallowed hard, trying to contain myself. "What do you mean?" I muttered through clenched teeth.

"Do they hurt?" He kept asking.

I just shook my head.

"What, then? Maybe I can help you," Dean offered, not really knowing what he was getting himself into.

"No, you can't," I hissed. My hands in fists, the adrenaline matching the swirling storm around us.

"I want to help," he said firmly, touching my arm. It was honest. It was pleading. It was decided. Dean would do anything, and he told me so. He was grateful beyond words and he insisted on doing whatever he could.

So I told him. I told him everything, sitting on the front door step of my house, after drying our clothes with our wands, and watching the storm die as the afternoon came to an end. I told Dean how it felt, the reasoning I found behind these sudden instincts, what I did every month to repress them. I recounted the few slips at the beginning and how terrible I felt afterwards, once sanity becomes louder than the beast inside. After over an hour, I told him why I had been so hostile towards him, what the wolf needed to claim and how.

Dean didn't look upset, nor scared. He remained serious, taking in every word I said and nodded at all the right places, asking the correct questions at the best time. Once I finished, he kept silent, looking at the ocean mix with the dark grey clouds in the sky.

"I'll do it," he suddenly said.

"What? No! You-"

"I'll do it," he said again in that firm voice that made him look a whole lot older than his 18 years old. "You can either accept yourself or I'll rile you up enough so that the wolf needs to fight back so badly it will get uncontrollable."

There was an edge of challenge in his voice which I didn't like. I felt a growl deep in my chest. It wouldn't take long for the beast to get really angry and its need to claim power become impossible for me to repress.

* * *

**May 4th, 1998**

The great loss of the war was unbearable. Deciding it would be easier to make a collective funeral for all of those who died so the world could be a better place, McGonagall and Kingsley organized a heartbreaking ceremony. In the darkness of the night, everybody held a candle symbolizing the light inside each and everyone one of us that defeated the Dark side. One candle wasn't strong enough, but united it conquered the darkness, lighting the path that would help those who will no longer be with us.

I hadn't cried. I hadn't shed a single tear for Fred, Tonks, Lupin or Moody. I felt numb, empty. The relief I felt as soon as it all ended quickly subsided to be replaced with nothing instead. For the first time in two years, I wished it were a full moon. At least then, I would feel the anger, lust and wildness that would make me feel alive.

I walked away from my family, not able to handle their grieving any more than my emptiness. So I wander between strangers, between friends and families that had lost as much as I had. But I cannot even feel empathy for them. Why would I? I'm hollow inside.

As I go past a blond man with Muggle clothes, sobbing on his teenage son's shoulder, I saw him. "Dean," I whispered and walked up to him, letting his long arms embrace me.

The gesture is not unpleasant, it's not threatening. There's no wolf awake inside, uncomfortable with surrendering to another male. No, now it's just me, Bill, burying my face in his broad shoulder and feeling Dean's warmth as he holds me.

"What can I do to help?" he croaked, tightening his hug.

Then, my eyes burned for the first time with tears I didn't know I had. I had been incapable of feeling any emotion unless it was full moon and the wolf inside took charge. However, today, still seven days to go in the calendar, I felt something. With Dean came all the feelings that were numbed in the pitch of my stomach. With Dean came my full moon.


End file.
